My oldest son upped sticks and moved to China and my youngest son got married; my husband continued to work his socks off in support of my journey into the world of novel writing and having completed my very first novel, I sought to get my book published. Of course, once this happened there was all the marketing and PR stuff to contend with; after all, readers need to know a book is actually out there for their reading pleasure.
However, amidst all this I've also been continuing to write. And I thought now would be a good time to share just a little taste of my work in progress...
So, for those of you who've been kind enough to read Going Underground, I hope you can recognise not just my voice, but some of the humour and quirkiness I love to bring to my work. And for those of you new to my writing, I hope you enjoy x
“Well that’s it!” I announced, having just landed at Mum and Dad’s house for our customary Sunday lunch gathering. “My life as I know it is officially over!”
Of course, I should’ve known better. But being daft enough to expect at least a modicum of sympathy from within the bosom of my family, it was somewhat disappointing to find none actually forthcoming. In fact, even before I could take my coat off Mum was in the process of thrusting a mass of cutlery my way, whilst pointing me in the direction of the dining room table before disappearing off back into the kitchen. Then again, with a clan like ours to feed and water, I did suppose she needed all the help she could get – especially as most members of our family prefer a more observational role when it comes to mucking in with the household chores.
“Oh yes,” I continued. “My dreams have finally been crushed once and for all...”
I began laying the table, begrudgingly squeezing behind an already seated Dad. A man clearly more concerned about his belly’s grumblings than those of his beloved offspring.
“Leaving me no choice but to think about joining a Convent,” I carried on, regardless. “Where I shall, no doubt, remain for the rest of my days.”
“Things didn’t go too well then?” asked Mum, suddenly re-appearing with a stack of plates and following me around, eager to get the task at hand done and dusted.
Not that I minded her hurrying me along in my moment of distress. After all, everyone knew it paid dividends to have everything organised and in place before Brother No.1, Steve, and his wife Jill arrived – with their not so adorable kids in tow. Although to be fair it wasn’t so much my rather sullen, fifteen year old niece who was cause for concern, ‘texting, tweeting Tammy’ as I liked to refer to her; but more my yet to be diagnosed ADHD suffering little nephews, eight year old twins, Luke and Johnny.
“The trouble with you, Lydia,” Dad joined in – although just to clarify, by that I mean with the conversation and not the workload. “Is you’re far too picky.” He folded his arms as if he’d just imparted some piece of crucial advice.
Obviously a Father who wants nothing but the best for his one and only daughter, I sarcastically noted. Although at the same time I did have to acknowledge he wasn’t exactly the first person to suggest I might be setting my sights a little higher than was good for me.
“Too ugly, you mean,” corrected Pete, brother No.2, as he appeared in the doorway.
Not particularly the wisest of words to come out of his mouth, I considered; especially when I still had a couple of knives in my hand. And believe you me, as I watched him take his seat at the table not only was I sorely tempted to use them, but once again, I found myself appreciating why his long suffering girlfriend had finally decided to kick him to the kerb, sending both him and his belongings back home to Mummy.